


(just give me) true love and understanding

by benditlikepress



Category: NCIS
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Pregnancy, Reminiscing, really it's about their parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: A long-forgotten relic from Tony’s past encourages him and Ziva to open up as they prepare for the next change in their lives.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	(just give me) true love and understanding

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CwyzBdBJAH0
> 
> almost entirely inspired by Tony telling Ziva he thought his mum liked films because of the "escape" and the little confused look on Ziva's face. also by my love of this song ❤️  
> may be slightly AU in that some things I use may not fit exactly with the sporadic information Tony and Ziva gave about their mothers over the years. I basically just made up whole backgrounds for their parents so 🤷

**_Hey, hey, hey, lover_ **

**_You don't have to be a star_ **

**_Hey, hey, hey, lover_ **

**_I love you just the way you are_ **

**_For love is just the same_ **

**_Without fortune and fame_ **

**_Just give me_ **

**_True love and understanding_ **

**\- Daughters of Eve; Hey Lover**

* * *

Ziva never expected that she'd start to hate silence.

She'd always enjoyed being social, and listening to music, but now it was as though being left alone in a quiet room was a monumental task to face.

The change had happened at some point during her time on the run, when she'd try desperately to distract her mind with music or memories or the sounds of the city to avoid the thoughts in her head. Now, in the period of quiet after she got home from work before Tony or Tali arrived, she wondered how she had ever enjoyed living alone.

It was a Thursday which meant Tali had ballet after school, and Tony was picking her up on his way home. This was their new routine as of a couple of weeks ago, at Tony’s insistence, despite Ziva’s repeated attempts to convince him it wasn’t necessary yet.

Ziva had to admit she did indulge him a little. As much as his protective nature could frustrate her, this element she understood. It was his first time going through this, and with the dust still not long settled after Sahar she knew why he was so determined for her to be healthy and safe.

Still though, what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and so once she got changed out of her work clothes she began to reorganise the living area and dining room, pulling boxes out of cupboards and checking their contents and packing away things they’d left out.

When Ziva began to dust along the surfaces, covering the places she’d moved items around, her eyes landed on the record player underneath the window that was so comfortable in its non-usage it had practically become an ornament of its own.

It was sitting on a surface alongside a small pile of books that were atop the records they owned, exclusively Tony’s. They were still in a hard-sided small suitcase that Ziva guessed had been how they had originally travelled to Paris.

Records had never exactly been Ziva’s bag, and so when she pulled the books off the suitcase to examine its contents she wasn’t entirely sure how she’d know if any of it was worth throwing out.

There were several records piled on top of it underneath the books, and when Ziva opened the case it was clear which ones had been accessed and which hadn’t – two disconnected piles on top of each other, the top ones messier and the ones underneath packed tightly.

It was curiosity rather than a desire to organise that had her flicking through them, looking at the titles and pictures on the sleeves. Many of them were old – older than herself, even, with names she recognised as favourites of Tony’s.

Thought it made perfect sense now, a fundamental part of who he is, Ziva could remember being surprised when she'd heard him whistling Frank Sinatra on one of their first days working together. His love for classic films and 50s and 60s music wasn't something that had made it onto her Mossad report before meeting him, and perhaps unfairly she'd not expected him to have the depths that he did.

He'd surprised her, even from minute one when he'd refused to take her bait in the office that morning. Though his capacity to surprise her had dwindled as they became the central component in each other’s lives, he was still capable of a shock. Taking her breath away out of nowhere in a way nobody ever had before.

She thought, fondly, of the first time she could remember that feeling. Watching him give a Christmas present to the lonely older woman from Human Resources who's name escaped her so many years later, and the way he'd looked up at Ziva with a grin on his face for reassurance and she'd been so shocked by the sheer weight of charm in his eyes she'd actually got breathless for a moment.

As she got to the bottom of the stacks, one record in particular caught her eye. The sleeve itself was unremarkable – a discoloured white, darkened with age. There was an aged piece of tape stuck to the top corner, with a ripped piece of paper underneath it that read ‘Chicago ’67 with Linda and James’ in faded ink. Ziva’s curiosity was piqued: the date not only out of her range but also out of Tony’s.

When she pulled the record out she expected to find similar wear and tear related to ageing but it was surprisingly clean looking. The record itself was black and the label in the middle declared 'USA Records' in big letters on top of a blue image of the country, flag in the background.

Her curiosity was piqued further, not a record she recognised or could ever remember seeing in Tony’s old apartment. She pulled the record out fully and placed it on the player, fiddling with it for a moment until she figured out how it worked and she heard a second’s pause before an upbeat guitar melody started to play.

_“Hey, hey, hey lover,_

_You don’t have to be a star._

_Hey, hey, hey lover,_

_I love you just the way you are…”_

The recording was a little tinny after all the years but Ziva found herself turning it up, tapping her fingers to the beat as it continued.

_“Hey, lover,_

_Won’t you treat me right and be with me tonight?_

_Just give me true love and understanding,_

_True love and understanding,_

_For the rest of my days”_

When the song finished, she set it to play again, closing her eyes and listening to the catchy tone and the surprisingly sweet words. Even with Tony’s hidden depths it wasn’t something she’d ever have associated with his tastes, and its presence was if anything even more of a mystery now.

She set about clearing through the rest of the records as she listened a couple more times, feeling the lyrics begin to sink their way into her head and predicting where they’d go next. The room began to look cleaner, and barer, though Ziva knew that it wouldn’t last long until it was cluttered even worse than before.

She found cleaning cleansing, though, in a way. A good way to keep your mind occupied. Perhaps luckily for her, Tali walked through rooms like a hurricane.

It was evening by the time Ziva heard noises in the hall outside the front door, and the jangling of keys followed by a peal of laughter. Typically, she felt a little flicker of adrenaline in her chest.

She'd been back for almost a year now, and though she was completely comfortable and secure, in a strange way it felt as if it had been no time at all. All three of them still making the most of time together - lazy mornings in bed (something once upon a time Ziva was vehemently opposed to) and movie nights and late night chats. She supposed that it had gone on long enough by now that it was the norm now: the way her stomach still flipped when she saw them for the first time all day.

The door eventually burst open and Tony practically fell inside, carrying his bag and Tali’s as well as her ballet uniform and her coat and apparently the kitchen sink. He stumbled over where he’d dropped them and looked around the room, noticing the rearrangement and the cardboard boxes Ziva hadn’t put away yet.

“What’s going on here? I thought I told you to take it easy.”

“Just some rearranging. I told _you_ I am not an invalid.”

“Ima!” Tony’s response was halted before it could begin when Tali came crashing into the room and flung herself onto Ziva’s lap. Ziva was used to the energetic affection and barely batted an eye as the girl began to twiddle with the necklace around her neck.

"How are you? How was ballet?"

"Good. Madame Amelie said my feet are getting better.”

"Oh, well done! You have been working really hard for that.” Tali had been born with two left feet, something Tony and Ziva each tried to blame the other for. “What did you do at school today?"

"We built these shelters to put eggs in and then we dropped them out of the window. Mine broke."

"Oh no! Did it make a mess?"

“It was all in the shelter but when I opened it all the gross stuff went on the floor. And then in show and tell I said about the baby in your belly."

Ziva instinctively looked up at Tony as Tali continued, catching the glint in his eye. "Was everybody excited?"

"Uh-huh. Eva said her mommy let her pick her baby brother's name."

"Don't you be getting any ideas, sweetheart. You have a dog called 'dog'. What would you call a baby, 'baby'?" Tony spoke as he walked over to them, flicking Tali’s ponytail lazily.

"No, that's a nickname for mommies and daddies."

"Oh, is it?"

Tali nodded her head, a little embarrassed at their response to her confident assertion, but then rallied. “Can I pick the baby’s name?”

“If it is a boy or a girl, you would like to pick? I am not sure about the final decision, but..” Ziva lifted her head and Tony gave her a slight nod as she began to talk, which she took as agreement. "How about this - when daddy and I have thought about some of the names we like, we will ask you which one is your favourite. I cannot promise we will use it, but we can talk about it."

“OK!”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna tell Eva tomorrow!”

“Alright, sweetheart, you should tell her tomorrow. Maybe she will have some ideas too. We are going to make dinner, why don’t you get changed and make a start on cleaning your room? Remember, you promised on Monday you were going to do it?”

Tali began to object but flung herself off Ziva’s lap in the clumsy way she did, careering off towards her bedroom. Tony and Ziva both stood up, watching her as she disappeared dragging her things behind her.

“That girl is like a tornado.”

“I was thinking more a hurricane.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He dipped his head to kiss her, lips soft and the touch unexpectedly slow as he wrapped his arms around her.

“How are you?”

“Good. Are you going to help me?”

“Let me get changed first.”

“Do it fast or I may have to come in and help you.”

“Hmm, promises.”

Tony got changed as Ziva took the chicken out of the fridge and put it under the grill and when he returned he began to make a sauce, the two of them working easily in tandem. They passed ingredients between each other as the sauce was left and they moved onto vegetables.

"You're serious about that?"

Ziva frowned at the question, something evidently on his mind that wasn’t quite following on her own. "About what?"

"You think we should let Tali pick the baby's name? Once you have a name, that's it. Stuck."

"I am not so sure about that one, _Anthony_ , but I said she could say which was her favourite off a shortlist."

"She'll probably pick the title."

"Leave her alone." Ziva batted Tony's stomach with the back of her hand and he tried to dodge away a little too late. "Ah, not quick enough. I thought you agreed."

"I did?"

"You raised your eyebrows at me."

"Ah, I see. Don't need words anymore, huh? Nah, I'm kidding. I think it's a good idea. So long as we're careful about the names we present her with. It’ll be good for her to feel like she’s involved.”

“A carefully curated list, right.” Ziva looked at the chicken under the grill and turned them over.

“How long d’you think this is gonna be?”

“Not too long.”

"Tali was saying she's hungry on the way home."

"Sorry - I did intend for this to be ready when the two of you got back, but I got distracted."

"Is that what you were doing since you got home?"

"Yes."

"Big job?"

"More than I realised. There are a couple of boxes I have packed away, but I thought you might want to double check them first just in case there is something I have put in there by mistake.”

"I thought nesting doesn't start until way later."

"I am not _nesting."_

He had that flicker of a smile in his eye again that had threatened to throw her for a loop when they first met. For all she'd learned about him before their first meeting, she'd never expected to have the reaction she did when their eyes locked and he'd given her that smile as he said hello. She could see now, looking back, how young she'd been. She thought she knew everything about how her life would go before she met him.

Thank god for life lessons.

"No? Coulda fooled me."

"I just cannot believe how many things we have in this apartment. You would think you had lived here for a decade."

"Name 1 thing we have here that we don't need."

“A harmonica.”

“Are you kidding? That’s so small. If that’s all we have a problem with, then…”

“It was just an example. You can look through and see for yourself.”

“Alright, I will. You just keep stirring.”

Ziva rolled her eyes at the affectionate grin on his face as he chopped the vegetables and put them into the sauce. In the quiet, the song that she’d listened to on repeat earlier worked its way like an earworm back into her head. She tapped the tune out on the counter.

_"Just give me true love and understanding, for the rest of my days.."_

"What did you just say?" The question cut through the air so oddly that Ziva turned her head to look at Tony. His hand had paused where he’d been chopping and he was looking right at her with a little frown between his eyebrows.

"I was singing."

"Carry on."

She sang the line again, feeling a little perturbed at the way he was staring at her. “That is all I know. What is it?”

"How do you know that song?" His voice was measured but there was something she couldn’t place behind it. Like he’d seen a ghost.

"You have a vinyl of it. I was seeing if the record player works."

Tony left the room abruptly.

* * *

Ziva stood in the kitchen for a few moments, wondering what exactly was going on. By the time she’d found the sense to follow him, she heard the melodic guitar introduction begin in the next room. The volume adjusted down quickly as she entered.

_“Hey, hey, hey lover,_

_You don’t have to be a king…”_

His back was to the doorway and Ziva walked up to him tentatively. He must have felt her approach because he turned his head a little towards her, a small smile now on his face.

“I didn’t realise I had this. Where was it?”

She walked over and stood alongside him, looking down at the record spinning in the player as the music played. “Near the bottom of the case of records. It had been packed tightly, maybe you had not touched it before you moved.”

Tony seemed eerily quiet even as Ziva spoke, and when he did his voice was a little spaced. "I can't believe it still sounds so good. It's older than me."

“I saw this.” Ziva, enthused by the attempts at conversation, retrieved the sleeve from where she’d left it and passed it to Tony. He ran his hand over the label with a hint of affection. “What is it?”

“It’s – it was my mom’s. Her favourite song.”

Maybe she should’ve expected an answer like that, but it was always surprising when Tony brought up his mother. She wasn’t sure he’d mentioned five things about her to Ziva during their time at NCIS – a notable blot in his vocabulary.

He offered it now, though, and Ziva nodded with an encouraging smile.

“I did not realise – I would have..”

“No, it’s OK. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it.”

It was like peering into his memories as he listened, watching his eyes track something invisible and the way his breathing seemed to visibly slow.

"Was this song famous? I have never heard of it before."

"No, no. Not at all. My mom had a cousin who lived in Chicago. She went to visit her and her husband, before I was born, and she came back with this. She used to play it all the time."

“You are right about the quality, you can hear the recording quality is not good but the sound is like new.”

Tony looked amused by Ziva’s attempts to continue the conversation, though she was keen for him to be the one to lead with whatever it was he was willing to say. He nodded, to himself.

"She used to sing it to my dad when things were good for her."

She wondered how it must've been, growing up with two parents who loved each other like that even with the hardships and difficulties they faced. Her own parents’ relationship had always been distant, even before Orli Elbaz.

“I like it. Did you really forget you had it?”

“Completely. I don’t know how I could’ve packed everything up and not noticed.” He thumbed the sleeve again, flipping it over to look at the back though it was blank.

Ziva found herself singing the song again under her breath and Tony turned so his eyes focused on her. She smiled expectantly as he stared.

“I’m sorry. Is it strange to hear?”

"No. I love your voice."

Ziva always felt strangely self-conscious when Tony said that to her, the soft wonder in his voice taking her aback.

"I like yours too. Very much. I wish you sung more."

"We could take it on the road. The Partridge Family with both parents, huh?"

"Who?"

"God, you're young."

"I am not that young. I _am_ Israeli, though."

"True, that's true. I guess I'll forgive you."

"Was your mother very musical? It was her that got you to learn piano?"

The expression on his face as he assessed the words was almost wistful, as though it genuinely hadn’t been in his mind for a long time. Ziva knew from experience that sometimes it was just easier to not think of it. Or, if you did, to keep it inside. Ziva had always been very private about her mother and Tali when she was younger, particularly when she was at Mossad. Fear of showing weakness, something exploitable, making people look at her differently. She knew she didn't have to worry about that with Tony.

"Yeah, she was. Her singing, it's one of the things I remember."

Ziva's own mother had been tone deaf, something she and Tali would delight in teasing her about as they attended their own music recitals. The memory made her smile and she saw the same in Tony’s eyes, too, as he thought back. She hadn’t been sure he was still capable of making expressions she wasn’t familiar with and couldn’t remember off by heart.

It was funny how things had reversed from when they’d first met and every interaction was a new one. She'd told him about Tali practically as their first interaction - it had been so fresh, and she was still so numb, that she'd found herself repeating the words almost to remind herself it had actually happened. She had barely spoken of her to him after that until the fall before she left the States, when the two of them had unknowingly encouraged admissions from each other. She thought about how he'd spoken about his mother in a way she'd never heard him talk before - soft, and careful, and innocent, and how it had inspired her to tell him why she was upset a couple of weeks later when it was Tali's birthday. Vulnerability breeds vulnerability.

She remembered the way his eyes had lit up, despite themselves, when she'd asked him about the movies.

“Did she sing things like…”

Tali took that exact moment to re-enter the room, and though it was rare Ziva would wish her daughter away she wished she could’ve waited a few more seconds before entering.

“Is it ready yet?”

Ziva looked back at Tony, who’s expression was open and accepting. He nodded at her and she turned back to Tali. “Almost. Do you want to help daddy lay the table?”

* * *

Ziva spent much of dinner watching Tony for any signs of residual feelings over what they’d found but had come up unsuccessful as he engaged Tali in a heated discussion about bullfrogs (Tali’s latest obsession). His good mood continued through homework and bedtime, and even as he and Ziva were alone again he showed no immediate signs of wanting to jump straight back into the conversation. They picked a film to watch – a 1960s one that was all music and perfect hair and Ziva wondered if it was intentional. He sat down up against her and immediately placed his hands on her, the kind of comfortable gesture that made her smile.

His attention began to wane as the film continued, his hand moving on her leg but his eyes wandering to the corner of the room. When they stuck there eventually, for several seconds, Ziva paused the movie and looked at him.

"What's up?" His attention was bought back to her and the television with confusion.

"You are not watching. You are watching the record player."

"I am?"

"We can listen again if you want to."

The simplicity of the suggestion seemed to throw him and he hummed over the beginning of his sentence. "I.. I don't know if I want to. What do you think?"

"I could see you enjoyed it earlier, once you got over the initial shock."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe."

The hesitation continued for a moment until Ziva took the initiative, turning off the television and standing up. Tony stayed sat but she felt his eyes boring into the back of her head as she moved towards the record player and started to play the song. After a second, the guitar filled the air again.

She turned back to look at him slowly and he was still staring up at her as she walked towards him, sitting down but this time leaving a gap between them. He twisted towards her, without hesitation.

"I'm sorry.” He frowned and shook his head as the singer began, “I know I still don't talk about her much."

"You do not have to apologise for that, Tony. The past is the past."

“But we should talk about those things. _I_ should talk about those things. With other people I think – that’s not who I am, it’s not important. But I feel like you deserve to know all of that stuff.”

“That is your call. I would never want you to share things you did not want to, or that were difficult to think about. I understand you perfectly as you are.”

"It's difficult, y'know? Not sure how it's still raw, but it is."

"I know. I know that more than most."

Ziva's eyes flickered involuntarily to the shelf above the fireplace. The photo of Tony and his mother at the movies, alongside the only one she still had with Ari and Tali. Neither of them in frames, a little dog-eared from excessive touching.

"If you ever wanna ask me a question, you know you can."

"I know. It is the same with you - your daughter is named after Tali, I think you should know as much about her as you would like."

Ziva had started to talk a little more freely about her siblings since her arrival in Paris. They tended to shy away from conversations about their deaths (especially Ari's, for obvious reasons), but she was keen to live a more open life now in all senses of the word. Tony seemed to enjoy it when she told a story about their childhoods playing together in the gardens of the farmhouse, though in exchange the thought of him sitting alone in a boarding school dormitory made her stomach lurch.

"What about _your_ mom?"

"What about her?"

"You never talk about her either."

Ziva played with her hands in her lap. "She died before Tali and Ari, by a couple of years. I am glad of that in a way - I am not sure she would have coped with what happened to Tali. It is difficult for me to think about because of what it led to. But.. we had fun, living in the city with my mother. Her desire to protect us from the Mossad way of life had always been a source of contention between my parents, so you can imagine what happened once she passed."

"Do you think you'd be here if it hadn't happened?"

"Sat here with you?” She didn’t have to take long to consider it. It was actually something she’d found herself thinking about a lot, the last couple of years. The choices and experiences that led them to where they are. “No, I am not sure I would. It is nice to imagine so, but I think so many things had to happen for the two of us to be here together.” Not all of them easy, of course. In fact, very few of them were. “What about you?"

"I honestly don't know.” Tony exhaled in thought. “I mean, who knows what would've happened if I hadn't been stuck in boarding school after boarding school on my own for years of my life. I hate to admit it, but I think there’s some truth in the things that’ve happened to you influencing who you are. Physically putting me here, for sure.”

“There has never been anything particular I was curious about, Tony. I just want to see things the way you see them. Understand why you view the world in the way that you do. In the same way as you do me, I am sure, though I know I am a little.. tougher to read.”

“Oh, y’think so?”

Ziva smirked at the playful smile on his face, so easily striking a balance between moods. “I want to know anything you want to tell me. I will do the same for you.”

The song had finished, perhaps poetically, though truthfully it could’ve ended a while ago and Ziva only just noticed. Her glance over to the record player seemed to alert Tony to the fact too, and his smile faded completely before re-appearing a little sadder.

“I’ve probably only listened to this song 5 times since she died.”

“You held onto it, though.”

“Yeah. I can’t even remember when dad gave it to me – I honestly didn’t think about it for a long time, I was trying so hard to put everything out of my head. Burying it. It took a long time for me to get used to the idea. I was pretty young, but.. I mean, it sounds dumb. Kids can be selfish. I think I was wrapped up in what it meant for me - moving schools and being on my own and everything, It took me a while to stop and understand what it meant that she was gone."

"I think that is natural. Children can struggle to process things that are heavy and permanent. I am not sure I truly processed that my mother was gone until Tali died and I realised she was not there to comfort me."

"That's the thing. Right? I think sometimes we take it for granted someone will always be there."

A silence followed that inevitably led Ziva's mind back to the time she'd spent away from her own daughter. She'd be too young to remember the specific details of their goodbye when she got older, but she wondered often about how much they would tell Tali about what happened. Whether it was easier, or kinder, to hold things back, or whether the truth was more important for processing.

She could tell Tony was thinking about it too. He moved his hand on top of the edge of her fingers, just for a moment, in a way that gave her a kind of comfort. It still wasn’t easy to talk about.

“I have a question.” Ziva was surprised by the sudden way she announced the words, a little pepped and enthusiastic.

“Shoot.”

“Your mother liked movies, and she liked music, yes? Did she like books?”

“She..” Tony’s face dissolved into a smile, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, she did. There you have it, my secret. I got read about 30 books every day of my childhood.”

“I always thought so. I can tell you are hiding some secret literature knowledge under your cat.”

“There’s no such thing under my _hat_. When I was young, I mean - I barely remember, she used to read all of those Christopher Robin books with me. But we preferred movies, always did." She watched the way his face changed as he talked. His eyes casting upwards as he remembered, the thoughtful smile. "We'd watch them every weekend, especially when she was sick and couldn't get out of the house. Some I used to make her watch over and over. She hated musicals though, sorry to disappoint."

“She was like you, then?”

"Eh, she wasn't really a sports fan either. She'd watch me shoot hoops but that was as good as it got."

“Do you think you are more like your father?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I know there are a lot of similarities between me and him – maybe more than I like to admit to, but when I think about it back then I remember me and mom always got on so well.”

She couldn't remember him ever being so open before but it was pouring out now, the dam opened. She couldn't quite tell if he'd been holding it in all of these years or if he'd never had the will to speak about it before.

They talked about everything, but there were some things Ziva felt they would always approach with a foot dangling in front of them to test the flooring. The Michael Rivkin era, mostly. One thing that didn't seem to become easier to talk about even with water under the bridge. It wasn't that they avoided it entirely, but they both acknowledged the fact that there were some things that would always be difficult to broach. A nervousness, from both sides, about what had happened to and by each other. It was a little like that too when they talked about their families – not Senior, but everyone else. For obvious reasons, in the case of Ari and Eli, and for more internalised ones in the case of Tali and Tony’s mother.

“Were the two of them alike?”

“Opposites attract.”

“Ah, I see.”

"But - I don't know, I guess I'm like my dad. It's weird, I.. I think as a kid, you never really know your parents. It's like they have a whole secret life you know nothing about until you're older. Sometimes I just think I didn't know her too well outside of being my mom."

It hit Ziva again, with aching clarity, the way he was unknowingly describing her exact feelings. Sometimes when she pictured her mother it was though she wasn't a real person: someone she had never got the opportunity to understand properly on a personal level, outside of the way she existed for the family. She hadn't known until a few years ago, for instance, that as a child her mother had dreamed of being an actress.

"You both like movies."

His expression was warm. "Yeah. Yeah, there's that."

* * *

As they got ready for bed that night the mood in the air was soft, an interesting kind of shared secrecy as though there was something they had between them that they didn't before.

She'd never quite got used to the feeling that accompanied a mutual sharing of emotions like that.

Ziva stripped herself of her clothes and crossed the room to retrieve some pyjamas from under her pillow. She turned back to the bed with a vest in her hands and Tony was sat up, eyes raking over her naked body.

"I was right - you really do suit it."

Ziva ran a hand over her swollen stomach. She'd only begun to show in the last couple of weeks as she started to move towards the second trimester. She'd carried smaller for a little longer with Tali but she didn't mind the contrast, finding her hands wandering more and more often to this position.

"There is not much to suit yet."

"Oh, I don't know.."

"Be very careful about the next words out of your mouth, Tony DiNozzo."

"I was going to say you're glowing. Beautiful. A picture."

"Oh yes?" Ziva didn't doubt its sincerity even with the joking tone in his voice, taking the opportunity to tease him back. "There is no need to flatter me, you already got me pregnant.”

Like Tali, this baby hadn't been planned. Unlike Tali, though, Ziva had felt something else accompanying sheer terror when she stared down at the pregnancy test. With Tali, the positive emotions had come later. This time was different. Alongside the anxiety had been pure, unfiltered joy.

Tony had nearly passed out when she showed him. They'd been using contraception, and Ziva supposed he hadn't expected it to fail after so many years of it miraculously holding up for him.

The way the smile broke out on his face after the couple of seconds of unbridled shock was an image that would never leave her mind. She couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else.

She got dressed slowly and got into bed next to Tony, sitting up against the headboard.

“Did you fix the ceiling light in the bathroom?”

“Oh crap, not yet.”

“I can do it.”

“I said I would, I’ll do it.”

“Yes, but I fear I may still be waiting when the baby is born.” She punctuated the comment with a kiss as he rolled his eyes in mock objection.

“Hey, I’m telling you my deepest secrets here.”

She thought about responding in joke but changed her mind, tapping his cheek as she pulled away and settled down properly. “I know. You know I am always grateful for that. And now we are having another baby, I will resolve to talk more about all of that for me too. As much as I am capable of it."

“Me too.”

Ziva returned the smile he offered, feeling the way it permeated through her body. “When did you say Senior is arriving?”

“Tuesday.”

“You should show him the record. I am sure he would be pleased to see it after so long.”

“I will. I think he’d like it. Not always, uh, easy to tell though.”

"He loved your mother very much."

"Has he ever spoken to you about it?"

"A little. The Christmas before _my_ father died, he came to the office and the topic came up. I would not say it surprised me but still, I felt something when he spoke about her."

"He was never the same after she died."

"I understand. I cannot imagine something like that." She knew, with startling clarity, that Tony was all too familiar with the feeling. More than once, in fact. She thought back to the situation with the Benoit's when Tony's car had blown up and how she'd internalised so much of her reaction into a ball of lead sat in her stomach, feeling as though it wasn't her right or place to feel the way she did about the situation. She'd become an expert at bottling up over the years. Then, it sounded like it was something she and Senior had in common.

She watched Tony mull over the words, evidently thinking back over the times when he himself had been through similar. The way he'd, without thought, put his life on the line for the off-chance he'd be able to get her back.

She searched for a way back into conversation before there was any more danger of it changing tack completely. "I would have loved to have met her, but I think I would equally have liked to see them together. Ever since he spoke to me about her, I have wondered what the two of them were like."

Tony's expression softened at her admission, and she wondered why she'd never had opportunity to say it before. "You should ask him. I'm sure he'd talk to you about it."

"That is not an easy topic to broach with somebody without a reason."

"We're having a _baby._ There's a reason."

The words made her chest flutter. "He is going to be so happy when he hears."

"You still sure about waiting?"

"It will be nice for him to learn in person."

"Another kid to spoil, right?"

"I know we do not have much by way of biological family, but it is good that Tali has him. I am so glad the two of you resolved your differences."

"Never thought it'd go this far when I did."

She placed a hand on his cheek. “You would have regretted it. I know not everybody deserves that chance, but I know first-hand that if you had left it too late you would have spent a lot of time wondering if you made the wrong decision. It is a strange feeling to be alone like that.”

"You have us.”

“I do.” Tony leaned in to kiss her for effect, lips a comfort against hers. When they separated, he shuffled down a little further against the headboard and then surprised her a little by leaning forward to kiss her stomach before settling back into the pillows. He didn’t seem to note the gaping expression on her face.

“You have some distant relatives, right?”

She refocused, seeing that the gesture was so natural to him he hadn’t even thought about it. "Yes. I have a couple of cousins a similar age to me, though I have not seen them since I was a child. Many of the ones I have are much older, my parents’ relations rather than mine. I have barely seen them, either. I should take the three of you to see them before it is too late."

"Introducing me to the family, huh? Things must be serious."

"Hush."

"I'd like that, if we went back to Israel for a trip. I think the longer we leave it, the more difficult it's gonna be."

"I know that is true. When the baby is here and can travel without too much difficulty, I think we should do it."

"I promise not to call any of your relatives names. This time." He tacked onto the end with a goofy grin and a wink. Ziva smirked.

"I have not forgotten that incident, Tony."

“Hey, this isn’t about me.” He held his hand back and she batted it down before he sighed and got serious again. “You’re right about Senior. I would’ve regretted it.”

"And look at you now, hm? The two of you get along so well.”

"I wonder sometimes if I was too harsh on him."

"No. And he would not think so, either. It is possible to love someone and still recognise that they made mistakes that hurt you in the past."

"He needed help. I can see that now. Don't know if he'd have accepted it, but.."

"It is empathetic of you to think that way, but ultimately it was not your responsibility. You were a child - you were so young. There was nothing you could have done."

"It sucks, feeling like you missed out on so much." He reached behind him to take a sip from the old glass of water on the bedside table and took a second to settle back down. “I can't even say, you know, she'd have been excited to have grandkids. I honestly have no idea if that's the kind of thing she'd have been excited by."

"I think all grandparents are."

"I don't need to tell you this, I know. You get it more than anyone."

She forgot sometimes, the echoes between their upbringings in spite of the wildly different backgrounds they came from.

"My mother loved babies. I have vague memories still from when my sister was first born. Ari was awkward about holding her at first like he thought he would do it wrong, but I used to sit with my mother on the armchair and she'd help me support her head."

"I think we'll have trouble wrestling the baby off Tali so we can hold it."

"You think?"

"She can't wait. Similar age gap to you and your sister, right?"

"Close enough. I hope she is not jealous."

"Nah, I don't think so."

"I know we did not plan this. The baby, or any of it. It has only been a year since I got back. But.. I am really glad it is happening."

“Me too. Not all surprises have to be an eyeball in your drink, right?”

“That is a healthy way of thinking about it.” Ziva chuckled. “I wonder how other people compare the things in their lives. What is the normal surprise equivalent of an eyeball in your drink?”

“I don’t know. Leaking roof?”

"Whatever they are. Things that are.. so absurdly different from the day to days of our lives. I think that is why it was so hard to picture this for a long time. We have never been close to that. Not even on day 1."

"Yeah, that's true. I think, again, we were always kinda set up to struggle with that. It took us both so long, so many dysfunctional relationships, to get it right. Not just because we really wanted each other but because of the rest of it too. I always wanted this for myself but I never really figured out how you made that happen.”

“In what way?”

“Never being around my parents, to a point. Not having that kind of relationship in my life. Growing up, before my mom died, there was a kid who lived down the street from me. Johnny.” His voice dipped telling a story, close up near her ear. His eyes were focused on where he was lightly poking his fingers on her arm. “I think he was a year older, two. Anyway, we used to hang out a lot, ride our bikes together. His parents got divorced after his dad had affair. He never got to see him much. Mom never remarried, used to spend a lot of time on her own. But.. seeing all of that, growing up. It all seemed like a bad idea to me. Seeing how relationships can fall apart in so many ways, people like my dad and Johnny's mom being destroyed by it. I think I grew up with just a... a fear, of turning into my dad. Of something ending and me just falling apart. I guess I figured it was better to never open yourself up to the possibility."

"I understand."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I think the things we see when we are young have an impact on how we see ourselves. Being in Mossad so young, seeing my father and his peers and the way they would neglect their family lives for their job.. I think I just never saw myself being in a stable family when I was older. Honestly, I assumed I would die young. Peril of the job. It was not until I arrived in America and began to expand how I saw the world and my place in it that I could entertain the idea."

“I’m glad you did.”

Ziva kissed him slowly, feeling a warmth she wasn’t sure was physical or in her head as she touched him. “Me too. Although it took a while. I still doubted my ability to do it, or whether it was a good idea, even after the two of us became close. I never really learned how to do any of this.”

“Neither did I. I think we’re just making it up as we go along, right?”

Ziva smiled. “Right. Now we are both here, together, with Tali. And another one on the way. Neither of them will ever have to worry about being scared to have feelings for someone, or opening themselves up to hurt. Because you and I can show them that it can work. Even when the odds are stacked against you. It is not like this has always been a fairy-tale, but I have never doubted my commitment to getting this chance. Maybe we are starting a little later than most people do, but.."

"Most people don't wait until their daughter is 5 to go on a date, that's true."

Ziva smirked and felt the warmth radiating from his eyes. "I think after what has happened between us, any attempt to have had a normal time would have been a disaster."

"Yeah, I think after my first run-in with your brother 'traditional' pretty much went out the window."

“We make it work. Yes?”

“Exactly.”

The space inbetween their faces was barely there but she didn’t close her eyes, focusing on his dilated pupils in the muted light. The sides of his eyes were crinkled, a small but ever-present smile.

"I've never really talked about this before."

"I know."

"I always say this isn't me. Y'know? I try really hard not to be the person that I thought it'd be easy to be to avoid all of that. But I can't act like it didn't happen, or that it didn't have an impact on any of this."

Ziva understood perfectly what he meant. It had taken her years to undo what she'd constructed for herself to avoid the pain of the past, not allowing herself to get close to people out of a guise of duty and an internal fear of losing them.

"I may not have anything to compare it against, but I know that nobody could ever feel as safe as you make me feel. That is not an easy thing for me to admit - to rely on that reassurance from somebody else, but there were times in the last couple of years where I forgot. I would panic and I still do now, but in those moments where I was not panicking it was still so easy to forget how calm I can feel sometimes with you. I never… even when my mother-" Ziva trailed off and Tony took her hand.

“You do that for me too. Always have. I know I haven’t always shown it in the same way, but I’ve never felt right when you weren’t around. God knows I tried.”

“You don’t have to anymore.” As Ziva tried to settle in against him, the conversation was interrupted by a sound at the door.

“Saved by the bell.” Tony whispered in her ear and kissed her chastely as the handle got worked a couple of times before opening, revealing a tear-stained Tali holding a toy in her hand.

"Ima.."

"What's wrong, ahava?"

"I had a nightmare."

“Come here.”

Tali clambered onto the end of the bed and climbed up it towards them. Ziva held her arms open and she crawled into them, wrapping tired limbs around her. She felt Tali’s eyes and cheeks wet against her skin

She rocked her back and forward a few times in her lap like a toddler, smoothing her hair down on her crown and kissing her forehead. She knew there'd come a day soon where she couldn't do this: Tali was getting older, and soon she'd have a stomach and then a newborn baby that would make it difficult. Tony learned onto his side to stroke her back, innocent concern on his face. Of course, he'd had years of this.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“M-mm.” She mumbled crankily into Ziva’s hair.

Ziva realised a while ago that feeling guilt didn't actually do anything to help Tali feel better, and so she shushed her and continued to stroke her hair. “Alright, that’s OK. You are safe. We can just sit here.”

After a few minutes of quiet punctuated by sniffing, Tali turned a head a little so her mouth was free.

"What are you doing?"

"We've been talking."

She turned her head further to look towards Tony. "Talking about what?"

"We were talking about _my_ mom, in Heaven." There was a little frown over the final word, and when he flicked his eyes to hers for confirmation Ziva could see him mentally trying to recall any information he might know about Jewish teachings on the afterlife.

"Is she with Spot?"

Spot was the gerbil that Tony had, inexplicably, bought for Tali while Ziva was gone in a moment of weakness. He'd died a month or two after her return, breaking Tali's heart.

"Absolutely, Tali. I am sure they are together watching over you."

“And the baby?”

“Of course. But Spot was _your_ gerbil, so you will always be his favourite.”

Tali wriggled herself free of Ziva’s arms in an attempt to gravitate towards Tony and settled down inbetween them, head buried in the pillow. Ziva manoeuvred the blankets so she was underneath them, both of them either side looking down at her.

"When the baby's here, will it have my bedroom?"

"No, sweetheart. The baby's going to be in here with us for a little while and then it's going to have a bedroom in the office. And the maybe when it's older we might look for somewhere bigger to live. A real house with a garden, how about that?"

"Can we have swings?" It was amusing, the way Tali's voice suddenly perked up as she had the idea. Tony apparently noticed too, shaking his head with a chuckle.

"Oh, you sound happier _now_. That's what you want, is it?"

"Me and the baby can play together. But I have to wait, right? Because it's so small."

“You will have to be patient for a little while, yes. But you can hold it and give it hugs and kisses and help it grow like that.”

“What kind of house will we get? Will it be a big one?”

“We’ll have to see what we can find. Maybe you can come with us and take a look and see what you think.”

“Can I pick like I get to pick the baby’s name?”

“I’m not sure that’s what we agreed, is it?” Tali cracked a smile though her eyes were still wet, giggling with her hands in front of her mouth. “We all have to pick which one we like best because we’re all gonna live there, right? What would me and your mom do if you picked a house with no windows and doors?”

“You could sleep outside.”

“Is that right? On the swings, huh? C’mere.” Tony grabbed Tali and tickled her under her arms to her protestations. Ziva shushed them both half-heartedly, enjoying the sounds of laughter more even in the middle of the night than Tali upset. “Alright, alright. What about this? We’ll take your opinions under advisement, _if_ you go to sleep again now. Deal?”

Ziva knew that Tali wouldn’t have understood the word advisement, but the play at businessmen pleased her and she shook Tony’s offered hand.

“OK, come on. Let’s keep that promise and try to get back to sleep.”

“Can I stay here?”

“You can fall asleep here but we will take you back to your room later, yes? So then we can get some sleep too.” Ziva lowered her head to kiss Tali’s hair as she thought about it.

“OK.”

“OK, good girl. Goodnight, I love you.”

“Love you too. Love you daddy.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

Tali closed her eyes easily, much more easily than she would after a usual nightmare, and a little bit of Ziva wondered if she’d had one at all or if she’d just been upset due to tiredness and wanted to come in to be with them.

She wondered how Tali would talk about the two of them with her partner one day. She hoped she'd remember they were happy, mostly, and when they weren't they got through it because they loved each other more than anything. That they would've moved heaven and earth for her to be safe and happy.

She thought about stories she'd told Tali when she was a baby. Stories she knew Tali realistically wouldn't remember, about a heroic knight who was off saving anyone who needed help but who had always climbed every tower for the princess, even when the tower was so far away it took him weeks and weeks to reach it.

Tali fell asleep quickly while Ziva’s mind was distracted by memories she didn’t often revisit now, outside of tonight usually choosing to focus on the present rather than fixate on the times she knew would bring up mixed emotions. She guessed she was feeling sentimental, and no more so than watching the way Tony looked down at Tali, observing her sleeping form.

“Is she faking?”

“It is hard to tell, she’s getting better at it.”

"I'll leave it a while longer and then carry her in. You know she's like a log once she's really out."

She knew Tony had probably done it a hundred times when he was alone, but still the thought and sight of him carrying the sleeping girl with her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder made Ziva's heart swell.

He was watching Tali, waiting for tell-tale time her mouth would fall open in her sleep, but Ziva’s attentions were focused on him. She knew he’d found it hard, not having come naturally to either of them, but it was hard to believe that when you saw them together now. Tali worshipped the ground he walked on. Ziva wondered how much it meant to him, having someone so consistently showing him love and affection like that without obligation or doubt. It was something she tried to do too, though she knew it would always be different coming from a child.

Every cliché she’d ever heard about parents and children had turned out to be right on the money.

Neither of them spoke as Tali fell asleep more deeply, cautious of making any kind of disturbance that would wake her up. It wasn’t usually this easy to get her back to sleep, so when it became clear that she’d truly gone both of them waited a minute longer than necessary. Ziva drew a line over the smooth skin of her cheek, watching her shallow breaths.

“C’mon, lemme take her in.”

Ziva didn’t move her hand from Tali’s cheek. “Leave her for a couple of minutes.”

Tony looked back down at Tali and pushed some of her hair behind her ear, a motion that filled Ziva’s head with memories of stroking tiny wispy curls when she'd first started getting hair. A unique colour, constantly changing, almost blonde in some light. Like his mother.

Her continued staring brought his eyes back up level with hers, frown of confusion on.

“What?”

"The blueprint you had of it growing up does not matter. You are an incredible partner, and parent. And I may not have known your mother, but I know she would be very proud of the person you have become.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

The smile he gave her then was so innocent that she could’ve sworn he looked 30 years younger. How lucky she was, Ziva thought, to have found something that wasn't going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> the next thing I write is gonna be fun and upbeat. I’m putting that down in stone so I can’t change my mind


End file.
